


Turned Out to Be

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age difference (18/Early 20's), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, teacher/student au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Merlin's first year teaching at Camelot High School, and he never expected a student like Arthur Pendragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turned Out to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Okey dokey so this is my first Merlin fic. I just finished all 5 season in the past week, and couldn't help but write this idea. I don't feel it's my absolute best, but I hope you find it to be worth a read.
> 
> As I am an American author, and seeing as it's past two in the morning, I didn't try to set this in the UK and instead just went off my own high school experiences/school system. So, yeah. There's probably a lot of.. discrepancies of sorts, regarding how things might go in real life--but really, what fic isn't like that?
> 
> Anyways, sorry for rambling, enjoy! <3

Merlin sinks into the rolling chair with a long groan. His hands rise shakily and scrub along his tired eyes, pushing into his hair—it's dipping into his eyes now, far too long, needs a trim, hasn't had the time—and feeling the grease of sweat along his scalp. It triggers another groan that ends with a thud as he rests his head on the cool surface of his desk. A stray slip of paper, one of many scattered on his desk, tickles his forehead. Merlin stares at his stapler and wonders how many staples it might take to kill him.

“Rough day?” Guinevere teases. She's the crafts teacher just down the hall, and likens Merlin often to a stumbling, new born deer.

“High schoolers are maddening.” Merlin complains, part of his mouth smeared into the desk and obscuring his words.

Guinevere laughs, coming to lean against the edge of a student's desk. “It's only your first day, Merlin, you can't give up now.”

“But why not,” Merlin retorts, stretching the 'o' out dramatically before closing it with a perfect 't'.

“Because you're a teacher, and your uncle worked hard to get you this job, and you're contracted for at least a year.”

Merlin rises and shoots a playfully annoyed look at Guinevere. “I know, I know. I wish I didn't, but I know.” He stretches and relishes the way his back snaps and pops. “How were your classes?”

“Little angels, every one of them.” Guinevere isn't as nascent as Merlin, but she's not nearly as old as some of the teachers. “All bright eyed, bushy-tailed, ready to learn.”

Merlin barks a laugh at her, harsh but not unkind. “Right.”

Guinevere shrugs. “Half the fun is dealing with the brats. Putting them in their place.”

“Whatever you say, Guinevere, dearest,” Merlin taunts as he gathers his bags into his arms. Guinevere waves him off. “Have a good night,” he tells her with a nod. She slips out of the room first, back to her classroom, and he off to the teacher's parking lot.

)

“What?”

“Detention, Arthur. Detention.”

Arthur Pendragon, Merlin's least favorite student (an opinion shared by many teachers, aside from the fitness ones) splutters, looking to his fellow classmates for help. No one stands up, and even some of his closest friends snicker and turn away. Merlin stares Arthur down until he slumps in his seat.

“Be here, after the last bell.”

Arthur's childish groan is overtaken by the screech of the lunch bell.

)

Arthur shows up in a timely manner after the final bell rings that day. Merlin hands him a stack of papers—a simple Chemistry test he'd given his basic chemistry students—with a red-marked key on top. “Grade them. And when you're done with that stack, I've got two more.”

Arthur's brow creases but he doesn't object. He takes a seat, stretches his feet out, and works quietly. Merlin sits at his desk, diligently inputting already graded papers. Every so often, Merlin can see Arthur looking around idly, but whenever Merlin looks his way, Arthur is back at work, marking the tests in red.

Arthur gets through a stack and a half without saying a word. Merlin checks the clock as he watches Arthur open his mouth—oddly hesitant for a student so eager to sass his advanced chemistry teacher—and Merlin beats him to the punch.

“Go on. You have practice, don't you?” Merlin's lips quirk in a grin, and Arthur returns with a sort of mixed expression. He gathers his bag, swings it over one shoulder, and hurries out of the class, leaving the papers and pen behind. Merlin stands and cleans up the scattered pages. He's straightening them, checking that the graded aren't mingling with the ungraded, when he realizes the door hasn't shut. “Arthur, forget something?”

Merlin turns to see Guinevere standing in the door. She grins. “Arthur's in your class this year, is he?”

Merlin slumps against his desk. “ _Yes_.”

“He's not so bad.”

“He's a prat. Never met a kid like him.”

“Hardly a kid,” Guinevere remarks, brushing past Merlin to straighten some stray beakers resting at the front of the class. “He's a good kid, just a bit.. A bit.”

“Pig headed.” Merlin supplies with a brief sigh. Guinevere laughs and steps back to Merlin to pat him on the shoulder.

“You'll be fine. By the end of the year, Arthur will seem like a godsend compared to other kids.”

)

Merlin stares, momentarily, at the socket that's flaming from within. Inside the table, through the stunned face of the socket, faint flames are visible. The poor calorimeter is destroyed, the table is a mess, and _the inside of an electrical socket is on fire_. Merlin rests his hands on his knees, bending to look closer at it. He presses the button that shuts down the socket; it doesn't kill the fire, and he can't very well blow the fire extinguisher into it.

“I think..” Merlin stands, eyes wary of the flames still flickering. “I think we'll just leave it. Gwaine, just. You. Work with another person.” Merlin scrubs a hand over his face and leaves the tables behind him. He stands and watches as his students fill small, rectangular holders with different liquids, put them in the calorimeter, and repeat the process multiple times over.

Slowly, as they finish their experiments and jot down their averages on the board, the students return to their seats. Merlin observes each table to ensure they've been tidied well enough, then returns to the very front of the class.

A few kids ask questions here and there about the lab, the calculations, the homework assignment. The lunch bell rings, and Gwaine stays behind.

“Uh, sir?”

“It's fine, Gwaine. It was an accident.”

Gwaine nods. Merlin notices Arthur waiting impatiently beside the door.

“Just go on, it's fine. I doubt the school is going to burn down from it.”

Gwaine grins in relief and nods before excusing himself. Arthur nods curtly at Merlin before following his friend out of the classroom.

)

Arthur returns midway through lunch that same day, sets his bag down at the door, and marches to stand in front of Merlin's desk. “Why is it that when Gwaine ruins a piece of school equipment and nearly burns down the entire lab, he gets nothing, but I made a little remark and I have to stay and grade papers?”

Merlin looks up from his lunch and blinks slowly. “Are you really asking me that?”

Arthur's stare hardens.

“Because Gwaine's actions were an accident, yours were not.” Merlin says simply. “Gwaine didn't mean to spill the acid, and it certainly won't be the last time that sort of accident happens. You on the other hand went out of your way to make a childish comment.”

Arthur's shoulders sink a bit, no longer brutish as he had been when he walked in.

“If you don't mind,” Merlin guides, motioning to his lunch and then casting a glance at the door. Arthur nods stiffly and leaves at a quick pace.

)

“Are you going to the soccer game tonight?” Guinevere asks as she walks into his classroom. She does it nearly every day, unannounced but not unwelcome. Merlin shrugs as he continues to pack up his bag for the night. “Oh come on, it's the first game of the year. It's a big deal to the students.”

“None of my students like nor know me well enough to want me there.” Merlin answers, not the slightest bit bitter—though he'd be lying if he said he didn't _want_ a sort of idol-fan-closeness with one of his students. Someone he could mentor in the ways of chemistry.

Guinevere shakes her head. “I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind, or Gwaine.”

Merlin shrugs again.

“Come on, it'll be fun. What else could you be doing tonight?”

Merlin briefly tries to come up with a list. No homework to be graded, no tests to plan, no homework to make a key for, no girlfriend or boyfriend to go home to, no pets to feed, no shows to watch. Guinevere's stare becomes increasingly amused as Merlin strikes another excuse from his list. Finally, he sighs. “Alright, alright.”

“Great!” Guinevere grins. “See you in a bit.”

Merlin 'mm's in response and hurries home to at least get a quick dinner in before the game.

)

The game is decent. Camelot's Cubs win by a remarkable one point (to a solid nothing for the other team). Being a home game, Camelot's players are wearing white that end up caked in mud. Merlin quickly picks out students he recognizes throughout the game, most prominently Arthur who takes the lead in every play, but never hogs the ball. Gwaine makes a fantastic goalie, the sort you see in professional games, that do flips and tricks and play around while managing to never miss a shot.

As the stands empty, Merlin takes his time so as to avoid the crowd. Guinevere has no such patience and waves as she leaves and eventually blends into the sea of red and white and golds. Merlin finally makes his way out of the stands, around the field, and to his car once nearly the entire field has emptied.

)

As Arthur is leaving class that following Monday, Merlin makes sure to send a “great job at the game!” his and Gwaine's way.

)

“You were doing so well.”

Arthur's shoulders tense as he walks into the classroom, straight into Merlin's words. He sends a glare Merlin's way then huffs to his seat.

Merlin snickers to him. Another snide comment—along with a very inappropriate gesture done when Arthur thought Merlin wouldn't see—had earned Arthur another detention. There aren't many papers to grade, and the ones that do need to be graded are from Arthur's own class, and Merlin would never let that sort of conflict-of-interest happen.

“Nothing for you to do today. Feel free to work on other homework.”

Arthur nods stiffly and digs around in his bag. Merlin sets to work on grading the most recent test.

An hour passes and Merlin is just finishing inputting scores when Arthur speaks. “Are you coming to the game this week?”

Merlin doesn't look over at Arthur, remaining focused on his computer though he isn't actually doing anything. “Is it a home game?”

“Yes.”

Merlin shrugs. “I might.”

“Gwaine would like it if you came.”

Merlin laughs. “Would he now?”

Arthur shrugs, pink on the ears when Merlin finally looks his way.

“I might,” Merlin repeats. “Not like I've got anything better to do.”

Briefly, a quick grin passes over Arthur's lips.

Merlin tells himself his heart doesn't skip a beat.

But it does.

)

Merlin does end up going to the game, and even leaves the stands quick enough to congratulate Gwaine and Arthur each before heading home. Gwaine doesn't seem nearly as happy to see Merlin as Arthur does, which is fine by Merlin.

)

“I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose.” Merlin taunts, setting the beakers down so that can drip-dry.

Arthur scoffs. “Why would I do anything to purposefully land myself in your bloody classroom for an hour and a half?”

Merlin has no response that isn't terribly inappropriate for a teacher to say to a student, so he holds his tongue for a moment. Arthur doesn't seem to care about the lack of a response, and instead tosses his bag to his usual spot.

“What have you got for me today?”

Merlin looks around, tapping his foot on the linoleum. “Want to help me organize bottles of die for the basic chem students?”

Arthur shrugs and follows him to the supply closet without complaint.

)

When Arthur shows up in his classroom without a detention guiding him there, Merlin can't help an eyebrow quirk of surprise. “What brings you here today?”

Arthur looks like something invisible is strangling him slowly as he speaks. “Wanted to see if you needed help with anything before practice.”

Merlin feels his eyebrows crawl up a bit higher before he settles. “Er.. I don't think so, honestly. It's nearly winter break, not much to do.” Merlin doesn't miss Arthur's frown. “Thank you, though, for the offer.”

Arthur brighten the slightest bit, looking far older than his eighteen years. “Coming to the last game of the season?”

Merlin chuckles. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

)

Merlin does miss it, but he hears it's fantastic. All mud spraying about and sliding and headbutting the ball and madness. Camelot wins, bringing home a nearly perfect season.

Merlin missed it because of a cold, one that keeps him away until the very last day before break—and even then, he only comes in at the end of the day to gather papers to grade.

With his arms full of papers, his favorite marking pen, and his best mug, he spots Arthur walking to the student parking lot. Later on, Merlin will remark that he doesn't know why it was so important to tell Arthur why he missed the game, but he does it anyways.

He trots as fast as he can and finally shouts, “Arthur!” just as the student stops beside a sleek looking car—one so much nicer than Merlin's beater that he's had since his own days in high school. Merlin very nearly skids to a stop behind him and catches his breath fast. “Sorry to miss the game. Got sick.”

Arthur gives him a funny look, one that's confused but also a bit pleased. “It's alright. It went well.”

“So I heard,” Merlin replies with a grin, “I heard you were fantastic.”

Again, Arthur's ears pink.

Merlin continues to smile until he feels the air grow awkward. “Right, well, just. Yeah—wanted you to know that I wanted to go but my mum called and heard my cough and said if she found out I left the house she'd have me kidnapped and brought home.”

It's Merlin's turn to blush because _wow_ overshare, much? He opens his mouth and closes it like a frightened fish.

Arthur just grins. “Parents, eh?”

Merlin grins. “Precisely.”

They smile at each other, until the situation again grows a bit stale. They each scramble to nod politely at each other while spewing out awkward good byes and 'have a good break's! Merlin waves as he walks away, and feels eyes on his back until he's at his car.

)

Coming back from break, Merlin expects Arthur to completely avoid him. Merlin spent the entire break—when he wasn't gorged on homecooking and his mother's affection—mulling over how he very obviously crossed some sort of line. Or at least, it certainly felt like it.

He wasn't much older than Arthur, hardly at all really, but Arthur was still his student, and the way Arthur made his heart jump was very, _very_ dangerous indeed.

)

Arthur walked into class the first day back and tossed Merlin an apple, and shot him a grin. The sort of grin from the movies, the sort of grin that the lead male of the film sends the way of his romantic opposite. Merlin flushes completely and ducks down behind his desk, pretending to rummage through his bag.

As class ends and Arthur leaves, Merlin makes sure to tell him thanks.

Again, his heart trips over itself at the way Arthur smiles back at him.

)

Arthur brings him an apple every day for two weeks until Merlin requests a change. He asks Arthur to stay during lunch, only for a moment. Merlin can feel his heart stammering in his chest, worried that asking for a change in routine would be like asking to address what the hell, exactly, is going on.

Arthur grins and agrees to bring something new every few days.

)

Arthur starts staying in his room for lunch. The first few times it happens, they don't say a word to each other. Arthur seems perfectly content with the silence, and Merlin, though he wants so badly to ask _why_ , instead involves himself thoroughly with his lunch and lesson plan. Every day after lunch when Arthur leaves, he makes sure to tell Merlin whether or not he'll be there after school. Sometimes he forms it as a question—“Need any help today?”—other times as a demand—“I'll be after, today.” Merlin tries to be honest, only tells Arthur to stay after if he really needs help with grading or cleaning or organizing. But sometimes he slips up, and tells Arthur to stay after school even when there's hardly enough work for Merlin to do to keep busy.

Arthur never complains.

)

Arthur is messing with his phone as Merlin inputs grades when the conversation starts, as it usually does. Merlin is the one to start it, this time, something rare in their arrangement.

“Going to the dance this Friday?”

Arthur shrugs. “Not a fan of them.”

Merlin raises one eyebrow but keeps focused on his work. “Why's that?”

“Juvenile, stupid, piss poor music and dancing and. Not at all a place I'd like to be on a Friday night.”

Merlin laughs. “I can imagine. I never went to a single on when I was in high school.”

Arthur leans forward and sets aside his phone with interest. “Why?”

Merlin feels a flush crawl up his neck and stretch into his face. “Err, never. Never got ask.” He admits, unsure as to why he didn't just lie.

Arthur's brow furrows much like it did that first detention. “I find that hard to believe.”

Merlin can feel the apples of his cheeks burning bright and hot. “Oh I assure you. Ask my mum. Ask my best friend. They'll tell you, my high school years were pretty bland.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Were you this much of a drama queen?”

Merlin grins and feels the blush fade. “Worse.”

Arthur laughs and it echoes in Merlin's head long after they've both gone home.

)

Merlin, for the life of him, doesn't know how Arthur found out where he lived. First off, it's a dirty little apartment complex where you've got to be buzzed up, so Merlin hasn't the foggiest who buzzed Arthur up, but there's no denying it's him standing out in the hallway. Merlin cautiously opens the door. “Can I help you?”

Arthur tilts his head. “It's me,” he says, like that explains everything.

“I can see that, Arthur. Why are you here? How did you even know where I live?”

Arthur squints at him and Merlin suspects Arthur wants to call him something less than flattering. “My father works for the school, you don't think I can access that sort of information?”

Merlin straightens, opening the door a bit wider. “That seems like it should be illegal.”

Arthur hushes him with a clearly uncontrollable grin.

Merlin sighs—he has an unopened, chilled beer sitting not far behind him that he'd very much like to be acquainted with. “What do you want, Arthur?”

The grin falls a bit and is instead replaced by a look of determination. Arthur straightens him, posed proud. “I wanted to ask you to dance with me. I've brought a CD, a player, I figure—?”

Merlin waves his hands to stop him. “Arthur, I'm your teacher.”

“So? Only for this year and then I'm gone.”

Merlin blinks. “You're still my student. You're also a bit younger than me, in case you've forgotten.”

Arthur shrugs so nonchalantly it's nearly infuriating. “I don't care. I want a dance. I gave you fruit, you know.”

Merlin blinks more, wonders if he already drank that aforementioned beer along with a few others and if this is all an alcohol induced dream-slash-nightmare. “Arthur, I can't. _We_ can't. It's incredibly inappropriate—”

“It's just a dance!”

“And I could lose my _job_ over it. Especially considering the fact that your _father_ works for the school.” Merlin leans against the door frame. “I'm sorry. I understand that I very obviously crossed a line. I let you. I let you behave this way, I let this happen, and I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened. I should have known better.”

Arthur's glee and determination is very obviously slowly slipping.

“I very much appreciate your friendship Arthur,” Merlin reminds him softly, feeling drunk off fear and regret, “and I will assure you that anything you're thinking is not in your imagination alone. I'm sure our thoughts are very much the same.” They are if they include thoughts of snogging a god damned student, and going on dates, and waking up to the prat's sleepy face and bed head hair. “I'm sorry, Arthur.” Merlin says again, guilt weighing down in his heart.

Arthur opens his mouth, then closes it. His face scrunches, as though he doesn't quiet understand what's happening. He opens and closes his mouth again, then nods. He meets Merlin's eyes briefly, and Merlin can see a flicker in his eyes that looks suspiciously like a tear, then turns away and hurries back to the lift.

)

School is torture.

Absolute torture.

The gifts of fresh fruit stop, and the class very obviously notices.

The lunch visits and the after school hours cease completely, which Merlin expected but never prepared himself to handle.

The rest of the school year drags. Whenever Arthur does something drastic enough to warrant another detention, Merlin creates a streak of either letting it slide or assigning him to study hall detention rather than the person detentions of before.

Graduation arrives in a blur; the seniors in his advanced and basic classes are constantly buzzing with chatter and worries and stress and plans, and Merlin watches silently. It's his first year, he's not terribly close to any of the graduates this year. Merlin occasionally catches Arthur looking at him, but never manages to catch his eye in return.

He's not sure if he wants to, what he'd do if he could catch Arthur's eye again.

)

Merlin is nursing a luke warm beer the day after school ends when there's a knock at his door. He abandons the program he was watching, something about magic and a prince and his servant or something like that, to answer the door. He doesn't bother to check through the peephole and see who it is, figuring if it's someone whose come to kill him then why not.

It isn't a robber or a murderer, though. It's far worse than that.

It's Arthur.

Merlin leans back and squints. He's not _that_ drunk, but again he can't help but wonder if he's dreaming.

Arthur snaps his fingers right in front of Merlin's face and Merlin realizes his former student has been talking. Arthur 'tsk's before continuing. “As I was sayin, _Merlin_ ,” and god is it weird to hear his name coming from Arthur's lips, when everything before was “sir,” “Mr. Emrys,” “git.” “As I am now no longer your student and won't be ever again, I feel absolutely no shame nor regret in doing this.”

Arthur's ears and cheeks are a delighted, bright pink and Merlin is mesmerized by them as Arthur kisses him. That is, until he realizes that _Arthur is kissing him_ , which becomes much more important than any adorable blush. Merlin presses back against Arthur's dry lips, licking at their seam to make the kiss easier.

Arthur kisses with tentative skill. He's kissed and been kissed before, but he's probably never kissed another man before. Only high school girls in the privacy of his bedroom and—jealousy flares in Merlin's veins and he kisses Arthur harder, pulling him closer and cupping his jaw.

Arthur moans but pulls back. “Merlin, _god_ , Merlin.”

Nothing has ever sounded so good, so perfect, to Merlin's ears. Merlin grins back at Arthur, who's very firmly wrapped up in Merlin's arms. “Yeah?”

Arthur swallows around the evident lump of nerves in his throat. “I.”

Merlin grins softly. “Come inside?”

Arthur nods, and Merlin takes him loosely by the hand to pull him inside.

Merlin sits him on the couch, and sits beside him. “I'm sorry,” he begins.

Arthur holds up a hand to silence him. “I. I over reacted. You were right. It would've been stupid and dangerous and. _Really_ stupid to try anything while I was still in school.” Arthur looks at their hands, fingers linked. “I was a complete prat.”

Merlin laughs and leans over to kiss his cheek. “It's alright.”

And it is, because they're here now, and that's all that matters.

Arthur smiles at him and nods. He raises his free hand to hold Merlin's jaw and guide him into another kiss. “Yeah, it is.”


End file.
